


I Was Praying for You and Me

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Series: ACITW AU [7]
Category: Glee
Genre: ACITW AU inspired, ACITW Inspired, Alternate Universe, Angst, Christmas, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, M/M, Mention of hospitalization, Romance, Sexual Content, mention of Burt Hummel in the hospital
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5876830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Sebastian are not together, and Kurt is sure that this break up is the last one. But when tragedy strikes over Christmas, of all times, Sebastian is the only person who comes to Kurt's rescue.</p><p>This is an ACITW inspired ficlet that I wrote, written for the Hummel Holidays prompts 'Christmas' and 'New Years Eve'. Based off the head canon I had, and mentioned in the one-shot 'Under the Fireworks' that I wrote, that during the course of their relationship, they suffered several small break ups, and one big one. This happens during the big one. But it has a happy ending. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Canceling Christmas

“So?” Kurt asks, watching Sebastian jump swiftly from one phone call to the next, trying to find somewhere, anywhere, for Kurt to get a decent bite to eat before Sebastian has to leave for Westerville.

“Not yet, babe,” he says, Googling another location and dialing the number. “Give me a sec. I’m calling a different spot.”

Kurt waits till Sebastian turns bodily away before he rolls his eyes, quietly mocking Sebastian’s insistence on calling him _babe_. They’ve been broken up for a couple of months now, and this time, _this time_ , Kurt knows it’s probably for good.

Just like he knew the last three times.

But that isn’t the point. They’re no longer together, so intimate, familiar things like pet names should be relegated to the past. They just make things too…comfortable, and confusing.

So should sharing clothes, Kurt realizes as he sticks his hands into the pockets of the sweatshirt he’s currently wearing, but to be fair, Kurt has borrowed and re-borrowed Sebastian’s Dalton hoodie so many times that technically it belongs to him now, so there’s no reason for him to give it up.

It’s not that they stopped loving each. Even now, all Kurt wants to do is climb into Sebastian’s lap, let Sebastian wrap him in his arms, and get lost there. Just curl up and disappear. No matter what happens between them, no matter where he goes, Sebastian will always be his safe place, his shelter from the storm – like Kurt’s father’s house in Lima, Manhattan in the winter, or the Smythe’s North Carolina beach house over the summer. But there’s a distance between them, a cavern that Kurt’s finding difficult to cross, even if for only the sake of them being friends. Good friends. Maybe friends with benefits, when that low humming undercurrent of romantic attachment finally bleeds completely away, because the physical attraction, the fire that ignites whenever they touch – that will always be there.

It would be a shame of epic proportions to let that go to waste.

Kurt thinks about doing it, standing up from the sofa, crossing the living room four or five short steps, and folding himself into Sebastian’s embrace. But Kurt doesn’t want to further complicate the already convoluted emotions between them that he’s having a hard time sorting through, categorizing, sticking into individual holes so that he knows exactly what to do and feel in any given situation. His feelings towards Sebastian have always been a mixed bag, a mad jumble. Looking back on their relationship from high school till now, he realizes that, for all of Sebastian’s kvetching that he didn’t _do_ boyfriends, they didn’t actually _do_ friendship. They went from mortal enemies to fake boyfriends to pretty much insanely in love without friendship entering into the equation as an autonomous entity. And not that they weren’t friends while they were lovers, but that in between lull period where the two of them could just appreciate being there for one another on a platonic level…that lull never existed for them. It’s been trying to grow and develop itself since, but too many things tend to get in the way.

But, to their benefit, neither of them lied, and neither of them cheated. They even stayed faithful to the relationship they had while they were apart, neither one immediately running into anyone else’s arms for the duration of the break. Maybe it’s because they’re older, more mature about things like that since they’ve shed the shells of their Dalton and McKinley selves. Kurt, who always assumed the first thing Sebastian would do is throw himself into another guy’s bed every time they had a break up, actually came the closest to hooking up with an anonymous someone else. Kurt met him at _Callbacks._ His name was Simon…or something. He was drinking a whiskey sour and reading a Playbill for _Hamilton_. Kurt asked him about the musical (since he’d been trying to get tickets, which had become a nearly impossible feat) and they seemed to hit it off. But when Kurt looked into the man’s face, listened to him talk, forced himself to laugh at jokes that weren’t remotely funny (some of them even a touch sexist), all Kurt could think of was how much this man _wasn’t_ Sebastian, wasn’t even a distant, fading shadow of his roguishly handsome, intelligent, witty ex. The man putting his hand on Kurt’s immediately destroyed the deal, and Kurt didn’t even bother to make an excuse when he stood from his chair and bolted for the door.

Some days, Kurt just couldn’t understand how they ever saw eye to eye. They had phenomenal arguments over the stupidest, pettiest things, which they used to simply blow off the morning after since those arguments acted as fuel for equally phenomenal sex. But Sebastian was under tremendous stress at school and so was Kurt – juggling a full course load plus working two jobs. They didn’t see one another as often as they wanted, and Sebastian started to blame Kurt, claiming that Kurt was working two jobs as a means to avoid seeing him (since Kurt was adamantly opposed to Sebastian’s heinous solution, in Kurt’s eyes, of lending Kurt the money he needed when he needed it, with no distinct want of Kurt paying it back). Of course, the situation would have probably been made better had Kurt moved in with Sebastian. He was over at Sebastian’s most nights anyway, and they had been dating long enough for moving in to be a feasible next step. Sebastian had never mentioned them moving in together, so Kurt assumed that Sebastian didn’t want to.

In retrospect, Kurt should have just owned up and asked him.

But regardless of whether Sebastian’s hanging on tooth and nail to the pet name part of their relationship bugs Kurt or not (which Kurt hates to admit, it really doesn’t) Kurt’s not going to make an issue over it, especially when Sebastian sort of ran to Kurt’s rescue. Of all the people in the world, all the friends he has who have forever told him, “Call me anytime, whenever you need, and I’ll be there,” Sebastian’s the only one who made good on that promise. He not only showed up, he flew in from New York a day early. He wasn’t planning to arrive in Ohio to visit his folks until the day after Christmas. The head of his department at NYU had invited Sebastian and four other deserving, hardworking students (of exceptional breeding) to a gala party in the city on Christmas Day. It was apparently a huge deal. Everyone from the Mayor of New York to George Clooney was expected to make an appearance, _plus_ , it was being televised – the cliché performance of the elite rubbing their unattainable splendor in the faces of masses.

Regardless, it was touted as a _once in a lifetime_ opportunity.

Kurt’s father’s sudden and unexpected second heart attack put a damper on those plans. But Kurt didn’t find out that Sebastian had canceled on something as humongous as that till he showed up on Kurt’s doorstep, and half an hour later, the department head called Sebastian’s cell phone to find out where he was.

“Thanks anyway.” Sebastian sighs. Another hang up. Another call.

“Any luck?” Kurt asks, but he already knows Sebastian’s striking out. It’s not too difficult to tell the outcome of the conversations Sebastian’s been having from his end of the call.

“Nope,” Sebastian says. “But I’m not giving up yet.”

“Dammit,” Kurt curses, kicking the sofa with the heel of his boot. The loud, dull _clud_ draws Sebastian’s eyes to an empty seat, and Kurt expects Sebastian to sit beside him. They lock eyes for a second, and Sebastian takes a step, but he turns it into a smooth quarter turn and starts pacing the living room.

“Yeah, I think the only places open today are the Waffle House, and that McDonald’s off the Interstate,” Sebastian says, hanging up from another endless ring.

“What? Do we not have any Jewish people in this town? Maybe some atheists? Or just some lazy ass jerks who don’t do the Christmas thing? There isn’t a single restaurant open on Christmas?” Kurt complains, determined to not let a silence fall between them. Unexpected things happen to them within tension-filled silences. That’s how they got back together from their last breakup. It was almost too predictable. 

“Well, people usually eat at _home_ on Christmas,” Sebastian says with unnecessary emphasis, seeing as, for all intents and purposes, they’re at Kurt’s home. The place he called home throughout all of high school. A place that hasn’t really felt like home for a while. It’s just a place that he visits – a safe place where he keeps his dreams, his memories, but most importantly, his father. “Plus, we’re usually snowed in in Ohio. I think a lot of places learned long ago that it isn’t fiscally practical to keep their doors open from December 15 th to around Easter.”

“Ah, yes,” Kurt says, adopting a wide-eyed look of nostalgia and gazing off towards the ceiling. “I do have fond memories of freezing my ass off in the snow, hunting down eggs that had been frozen solid to the grass.” Kurt sighs dramatically and bats his eyelashes. “Oh, joy.”

“You know, you could come with me to my folk’s,” Sebastian offers, changing direction to look at the photographs on the walls. The pictures have changed since the last time he was there. There are still plenty of pictures of him, Sebastian notices, and that makes him smile. He didn’t just fall in love with Kurt. He fell in love with Kurt’s family. If he had suddenly disappeared from this wall of photographs, he would have been devastated. He talks to Kurt through the reflection of the glass frames, younger versions of themselves watching this solemn conversation take place, since it’s easier to make this suggestion in a roundabout way than directly. It maintains an air of blasé between them, as if the offer’s there simply because it wouldn’t put Sebastian out much. “I know Westerville’s a drive and you want to be close…just in case. But they miss you. I know they’d love to see you. You’re all Liv talks about, and Julian…well, I have to warn you - Julian’s going to try to talk you into a three-way with him and Cooper.”

“Really?” Kurt chuckles. Sebastian shoots him a frown. “Last time, wasn’t it a foursome? How did you get demoted?”

“Yeah, well he said that if I’m going to keep making you break up with me, then I can hold the camera,” Sebastian grumbles.

“Well, then he’s obviously never seen any of _our_ sex tapes,” Kurt kids. “The cinematography on those is _terrible_.”

“Don’t blame me,” Sebastian says, eyes darting uncomfortably away from this particular conversation. “Blame the tripod and your pale, camera-hogging ass.”

“Nice,” Kurt says, that one word wrapping up the discussion succinctly.

“But, really,” Sebastian says, turning to face him. “You should.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you’re encouraging me to have a threesome with your brother and his boyfriend?”

“No,” Sebastian scowls, recalling how far Julian got last time in convincing Kurt (he always did say that spite is a powerful motivator), “I’m encouraging you to come to my parent’s house, where people love you and want to see you.” He shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll take your mind off things for a while.”

Kurt’s teasing smile fades, falling from his face with a long, shuddering sigh. “I know I should go with you, Bas,” Kurt admits. “I know that it’s the best thing, to be around people who care about me - really I do. And I want to go. It’s just” – Kurt glances up, then around, avoiding Sebastian’s soft green eyes, trying his best not to cry again, the way he had for the past five hours – “if I’m not here, right here, and something happens to my dad…if he…and I don’t get to say goodbye, I…” His mouth moves around air, words there on his lips that refuse to be spoken. He can’t say them out loud. He can’t jinx the precious tiny bit of luck he’d been afforded – that Carole had been sitting right next to his father on the sofa, watching a rerun of the Macy’s Christmas Day Parade, when he suffered his heart attack, instead of across town volunteering at the soup kitchen, where she had originally planned on being, the way she does every year. She hated seeming like a Scrooge, especially because this year they were significantly short-handed, but she was just too tired. Her being a _selfish hag_ as she put it, laughing through tears of relief when her stepson arrived, had saved Burt Hummel’s life. “But you know, you should go,” Kurt decides, adding a nod for emphasis, to prove that he’s fine with this decision because there’s nothing more Sebastian can do for him here. “I know you miss your folks, and they miss you. You don’t have to stay here with me. I’ve taken up enough of your holiday already.”

“Kurt…” Sebastian prepares to argue, but an exhausted Kurt shakes his heavy head.

“Your parents have already texted you six times wondering when your flight’s coming in,” Kurt counters. “You’re already lying to them for me.”

“Meh,” Sebastian says, waving Kurt’s concern away, “it’s not like we haven’t lied to them about bigger things.”

Kurt catches the reference and chuckles once. “Yeah, but I promised myself I’d never lie to them again.”

“Yeah, well, I made no such promise.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Still, you shouldn’t put them off any longer.”

Sebastian pinches his lips into a tense line, stifling his immediate instinct to argue further. Kurt’s being stubborn, the way he’s always so damned stubborn, but even if Sebastian’s right about this, and he knows he is, this is not the time.

Not when Kurt’s father can’t be here to back his son up.

It’s a testament to how long Sebastian’s known Kurt that he knows when to quit, something he’s never been able (or willing, frankly) to do with any other human being in his life. Kurt can be so thick-headed when he has himself convinced that he’s working in someone else’s best interests. Sebastian’s not going to win this argument, not this way.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, wishing that, despite what he’s saying, this would end like in the old days, when Sebastian would come in uninvited, plant his ass on the sofa, and stay, even when everyone in the room made it more than clear that they would rather he leave. “I’ll just watch some TV, wait for Carole to call, try to get some z’s. It’ll be good. I’ll be good. I promise.”

Sebastian leans down, his steps and his body stuttering along the way, unsure what the protocol is for _exes who are still completely in love consoling one another in the face of family tragedy, subsection: national holiday_. But, in the end, he kneels at Kurt’s feet and takes him in his arms, holding him tight, determined to hold him for his own good whether Kurt wants him to or not.

And Kurt wants him to.

Kurt only lets go first because he knows if he doesn’t, he won’t.

“Okay,” Sebastian says, rising to his feet and walking backward toward the door, “I’m gonna go” – he motions behind him in case it isn’t obvious – “but I have my phone on me, so if you need anything…anything at all, I’ll be here.”

“I know,” Kurt says with a simple smile.

Sebastian takes a step. “Remember, my folks aren’t expecting me till tomorrow.”

“I know, Bas.”

Sebastian takes another step. “I can totally stay here with you.”

“I know that, too.”

Another step. “Kurt, I…”

“Go, Sebastian,” Kurt laughs. “I’m a big boy. I’ll be alright.”

“Alright,” Sebastian says quietly, the word hanging between them while Sebastian waits for answers to unasked questions. “Alright.” He backs out the door, steps into the cold and dark with a bowed head “Goodbye,” and he’s gone.

Kurt sits on the sofa and waits, listening to Sebastian’s Mustang pull away from the curb and speed into the distance, trying to make up for lost time. In Kurt’s heart, he prays for Sebastian’s safety, even though he’s sure no one’s going to hear. If someone _was_ fucking up there, then his dad wouldn’t be in the ICU on Christmas. But maybe Sebastian will just know. He’ll let up on the gas, remembering that somebody loves him, several somebodies actually, and that they all want to see him come home safely.

Like Kurt hopes Sebastian will come back to _him_ safely – even if they’re destined to only be friends.

Which is part of the reason why he waits so long, sitting on the sofa, holding a breath, then another, hoping to hear the sound of Sebastian’s engine turn the corner and come back down the street.

But he can’t pin his hopes on a prayer that has no chance of being answered, by Sebastian, or God, or anyone. Just like everything else he’s left in the past, he has to learn when it’s time to keep them there.

He has to learn how to let go.

Kurt stands, cursing stiff limbs - caused by his inability to remember to switch the house heater on amid the chaos of calling his friends and family to tell them the news, and the hospital to check in on his dad’s condition - to the lock the door, but as he gets to it, puts his hand on the deadbolt, the knob turns and the door flies open. Kurt stumbles back a foot, leaping a final step to keep from getting smacked in the face like Wile E. Coyote in a Road Runner cartoon.

“Hey!” Kurt screeches. “Watch it!”

“Uh…sorry about that.” Sebastian pokes his head over the threshold, his body following awkwardly, as if acknowledging that he should wait for Kurt’s permission. But he knows in his heart that he’ll always be welcome in the Hudmel household. This cozy little single family house, which looks so much smaller now than he once remembered it, and much less steeped in the saga of Kurt _and_ Blaine but drenched in the story that was Sebastian’s assimilation into the Hudmel family, will always be home, one way or another, as long as Kurt belongs to it.

“You know, uh…I was at the stop sign just now and I happened to look on Yelp,” Sebastian says before Kurt even utters a _hello_. “And it says here” – he holds up his phone with the Yelp screen visible – “that the food in the cafeteria at Lima Memorial Hospital is really…edible.”

Kurt’s lips quirk at the right corner, seemingly on their own since the humor hasn’t returned at all to his tired and anxious expression.

“Really?” Kurt says, brushing himself off and straightening himself up, going along with his ex-boyfriend’s fumbling attempt at chivalry.

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, knowing that Kurt’s only humoring him. “So I was thinking, maybe, you know, we go down there and grab something hot and remotely ingestible. My treat.”

“And what about your family?” Kurt asks. “Aren’t they going to be missing you?”

Kurt appreciates Sebastian coming back, probably more than he’ll ever find words to explain. He wants Sebastian to stay with him, sit beside him at his father’s bedside and hold his hand, help keep him strong, keep his sanity contained in one place, hold him through the night while he attempts to catch a few hours’ sleep. But he shouldn’t want those things if it means depriving the Smythes of their son…even though Charlotte and Gregory would definitely understand.

In fact, Kurt knows that if Sebastian calls his parents now and tells them that Burt Hummel has been admitted to the ICU, they would drive down to Lima as fast as Gregory’s Aston Martin can carry them. Kurt’s half-tempted to ask. It would be a tremendous comfort to see them at a time like this, even at the risk of Julian and Cooper hitching a ride on the invitation. But Kurt sees no reason to ruin Christmas for all of the Smythes at once. They’ll find out about his father soon enough.

Sebastian glances away when he answers, using grabbing Kurt’s coat off the tree by the door as a way to cover up his hurried mumble of a reply. Kurt hears a thing or two about family… _he thinks_ , but not the sentence as a whole, so what he _does_ hear has no meaning.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says, letting Sebastian help him put on his coat and button it, hoping to catch the rest of the words when they stumble over Sebastian’s lips a second time around. “What was that?”

They step out onto the porch, and Sebastian shoves his hands in his pockets so hard that Kurt expects to see them break through his jeans. Dropping his head back on his shoulders, he heaves a heavy sigh, and an oddly perfect white cloud of heat floats from his lips, into the sky.

“I said _you’re_ _my family, too,_ alright?” Sebastian groans, glaring at the stars as they start down the walkway so he doesn’t have to see whatever smug expression Kurt has come up with. “I mean, I know we’re not _together_ , but I want to be here for you. So” – Sebastian shrugs – “here I am. For you. And as insufferable as you are, as annoying as you can be every single second of every day” – Sebastian brings his gaze back down to the level of Kurt’s eyes – “it’s pretty much the only place I want to be.”

Kurt can’t help his lips parting, his jaw dropping an inch before he realizes and catches it. But the mad, sick, sentimental thrumming of his heart? That he can’t stop.

He doesn’t want it to.

“Thank you…I think,” Kurt says in place of a socially expected (considering the circumstances), heartfelt sentiment of thanks, because they wouldn’t be Kurt _and_ Sebastian, together or apart, if he did.

“You know what?” Kurt says, taking Sebastian’s arm the moment he offers it. “I’m suddenly really in the mood for a dry, three-day-old turkey sandwich wrapped in cellophane.”

“Well, I heard they have white bread soaked in bacon grease,” Sebastian remarks, walking a pace slower toward his Mustang than usual, a hand cradling Kurt’s where it rests on his bicep.

“Yum,” Kurt says, gagging alongside a laugh. “The pinnacle of Ohio cuisine.”

 

 

 

 

 


	2. The Tragedy of Lime Green Jell-O

“So, what did the doctor say?”

“Nothing reassuring unfortunately.”

“Well, do they know what happened?”

“Yes and no.”

“Why now? What after all this time? He was doing fine…wasn’t he?”

“I’m old, kiddo. No two ways about it. You’re just gonna have to accept it.”

“Dad…”

“The long and the short of it is, he’s going to have to stay for observation.”

“How long will that be?”

“Optimistically, only a few nights, but only time will tell.”

“They can’t give you an estimate?”

“Well, it’s difficult with it being the holidays, hon. They won’t be able to get a hold of the normal physical therapist until the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s…that’s unacceptable though.”

“Now, Kurt, the poor guy gets to spend time with his family just like everyone else does.”

“But this is his job! He should understand that sometimes people need him when it’s not convenient. That’s what the hospital pays him for. That’s what _we_ pay him for!”

“It’s a minor delay, honey. I think we can give him _one_ day.”

“It’s a pain the ass, is what it is. And over Christmas, too. I’m really sorry about all of this, you guys.”

“Yeah, because as we all know, you planned this on purpose.”

Sebastian doesn’t know what to do with himself while Kurt, his father, and his stepmom talk over the details of Burt’s most recent ordeal. Sebastian has always felt like part of the family, but this seems just a hair too personal for him to be sitting in on. Not that he regrets coming. He wants to be here. He wants to be here for Kurt, but for Burt and Carole, too. As corny as it sounds to him, and he’s the one who said it, together or apart, Kurt is his family. Which makes Burt and Carole, and everyone else important to Kurt his family, including his ox of a stepbrother, Finn, and that buffoon of a best friend of his, Puck.

 _Airman_ Buffoon now apparently.

When they got to Burt’s room, Sebastian had offered to hang in the waiting room down the hall while Kurt visited with his dad, but Kurt’s brief, impassioned plea of, “No…please…stay with me?” with his hand tightening in Sebastian’s grasp was all Sebastian needed to make him stay.

As soon as it becomes apparent that Sebastian’s presence, for the moment, has been forgotten, he hops on to his phone and gives them the closest thing to privacy he can. First, he texts his folks to keep them apprised of the situation, and to apologize for lying to them about where he was. He would have blown off the apology, but it’s the _Kurt_ in him that makes him do it, the little pieces of himself that Kurt left behind, the _Lawful Good_ that balances out certain aspects of Sebastian’s _Chaotic Neutral_. His parents send back messages of _We understand. As long as you guys are okay_ , along with their well wishes and love. They also extend an invitation, which Sebastian knew they would, for Kurt to come home with him when he finally leaves Lima, saying that they miss him terribly and would love to see him again. Sebastian figures he’ll sit on that, wait till later when they leave the hospital and _show_ Kurt the messages instead of telling him. Kurt might be more likely to accept if he actually sees with his own eyes how much Charlotte and Greg want to see their favorite _honorary Smythe_.

Sebastian understands why Kurt will probably turn the invitation down, but he’ll do everything aside from kidnapping him to try and get him there. Beyond the selfish, which, for Sebastian, is always a factor, it would be good for Kurt to be surrounded by love and support during this trying time, and the Smythes have that for Kurt in spades.

Sebastian takes a second to scan through his other text messages, which figure to about twenty-eight people from school all asking him the exact same, “Where were you, man?” which he promptly ignores.

He indulges in some social media, which is not something that Sebastian does often, the last actual Facebook post he made being somewhere around seven months ago.

He doesn’t look back to see what it said. He knows it had something to do with Kurt.

Sebastian’s relationship status, which had read, “In a relationship with Kurt Hummel” since the summer before college, even with the few road bumps they had suffered in between, had returned, temporarily he hoped, to his old vague standby “It’s complicated”.

Sebastian smiles to himself when he wanders over to Kurt’s Facebook account and sees that Kurt has changed his relationship status to, “It’s complicated,” too.

He thinks seeing the word, “Single,” and all that it implies, would have gutted him like a trout.

Finally, he amuses himself by sending out some random as hell tweets.

_A whistling Frenchman is no Frenchman at all._

_I used to think I was deep. Now I know, deep down, I’m shallow._

_If you don’t learn to master your anger, anger will become your master._

_It’s not what you can do in the world that matters, it’s what you can make people believe you have done._

None of the quotes/comments/jokes are his, but he couldn’t care less. He has around three thousand plus followers on Twitter, but he only really knows about twelve of them personally.

One of those twelve just so happens to be Kurt.

He watches Kurt, with eyes still locked on his father’s face, reach into his jeans pocket for his cell phone, which must have vibrated with an alert since Sebastian didn’t hear it go off. Kurt unlocks the screen and gives it a glance. A smile tugs at his lips as he scrolls through the page. He looks at Sebastian, rolls his eyes, then puts his phone back in his pocket.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, in discovering that Kurt still has notification for Sebastian’s tweets turned on, Sebastian’s heart stopped.

Kurt picks up the conversation where Carole left off, going over for the fifteenth time his father’s new medications and diet recommendations, so Sebastian busies himself messing with the abandoned food tray sitting on a rolling table close by. At first, Sebastian was just curious since he couldn’t identify any of the tray’s contents from his seat not two feet away. But, for no reason he can own up to, he picks up an unused fork and begins assaulting the amorphous food stuffs, stabbing at first, then drawing silly faces in what he believes to be “mashed potatoes” (though after five minutes of prodding, the jury is still out). Suddenly, he notices a silence in the room, and feels eyes on him. He looks over his shoulder at three exhausted faces, each with a different expression that says more about them then about Sebastian – Carole’s being amusement, Kurt’s - embarrassment, and Burt’s - an extra helping of exhaustion. The tines of the fork still embedded in the potatoes, Sebastian looks at them straight-faced and says, “This…this means something.”

Carole laughs and shakes her head.

Sebastian grins. He’s always liked being able to make Carole laugh.

If anyone in the Hudmel Camp has ever been completely taken my Sebastian’s charms, it’s Carole, which always struck him as extraordinary considering his sordid history with her family in particular. Those vulgarly Photoshopped pictures of Finn he created (not his shiniest moment ever, he’ll admit) should have garnered him _persona non grata_ status for life as far as she was concerned. But she’s so infallibly kind, so forgiving, so overwhelmingly generous, he hated himself on her behalf long after they’d made peace.

Carole took Sebastian in her stride. She said that he was the most dangerous kind of asshole – an intelligent, wealthy flirt with more good looks and charisma than one human being should be allowed in a lifetime. She used to call him a ‘panty dropper’ – the kind of guy who could make someone’s underwear fly off with the power of a single smile. It was a description that Kurt agreed with in private, but argued against in conversation on principle.

Besides, recalling those comments coming out of his stepmother’s mouth gave Kurt nightmares that not even turpentine could scour away.

A few seconds of tittering later, and an overtired Carole starts laughing so hard at Sebastian’s potato-based performance art that she snorts. Kurt shoots her a look.

“Don’t encourage him, Carole.” Kurt walks over and bats Sebastian’s arm, swiping his fork in the process.

“Hey! Meanie.” Sebastian pouts, giving Kurt a hurt look almost adorable enough to make Kurt give him the fork back.

 _Almost_.

Kurt does a double-take at the remnants of his dad’s meal, and glowers.

“Is _this_ what they gave you to eat?” Kurt asks with disgust. For the amount of money his father spends on health insurance, and considering the things that that same insurance often dismisses as unnecessary (usually the one thing that the doctors claim could undoubtedly save his father’s life), he’s surprised that he’s surprised. “Mashed potatoes and Jell-O? There’s nothing _green_ on this plate.”

“Not true. The Jell-O’s green,” Sebastian says helpfully.

“It came with skom originally,” Kurt’s father replies.

Kurt scrunches his nose. He doesn’t have a clue what his father is talking about, but he’s already offended. “Skom? What the heck is skom?”

“It stands for _some kind of meat_ ,” Carole fills in.

Kurt cocks a brow. “And you ate it?” His father smiles, one side of his mouth struggling to rise more than the other. Kurt closes his eyes in frustration, pretending not to see, pretending that that slow climb of his father’s smile up his cheek isn’t killing him. (A stroke? Did his father have a stroke? No one mentioned a stroke. Do they not know about the stroke? How could they not know that his father had a stroke!?) “Leave it to my dad to only eat the meat on his plate, even if he can’t identify it.”

“Don’t you know it,” Carole agrees around a yawn that she tries to hide behind her hand a second too late. “Jesus Christmas!” she exclaims. “I’m just about dead on my feet.”

“Dead on your feet?” Sebastian tuts. “Not the best I.C.U. reference there, Carole.”

“Oh, hush, you,” she chides with a smile. “I’m going to go down the hall to the vending machine and get some coffee. You guys want anything?”

“Nah,” Kurt says. “That last cup of coffee I had in the cafeteria is sitting in my stomach like a rock.”

“I think mine is erecting barricades,” Sebastian says, “so I’m good.”

Kurt watches Carole leave, his sad smile following her out, feeling like she’s taking the warmth in the room with her. Without her presence, without her smile and her optimism, the room feels unbearably cold. Without the floral scent of her perfume, which Kurt kids about being “old lady perfume”, the room smells overly sterile. The quiet that consumes them without her soothing chatter is so thick, it’s suffocating.

More than ever, Kurt is glad that Sebastian is there with him. If Sebastian wasn’t there, Kurt would be alone with his dad. He hasn’t been left alone with his dad yet, and waiting for that moment feels like waiting for a hammer to drop. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it. Kurt and his father have been through this before. Kurt has sat beside his father’s hospital bed so many times. This might only be his father’s second heart attack, but there have been other scares through the years – cancer scares, two bouts of pneumonia, a late onset of chicken pox that nearly killed him. Kurt feels like he’s run out of small talk about things like diagnoses, lifestyle alterations, and newly recommended treatments, most of which his father won’t qualify for anyway because of his age, his health, or his income. Kurt knows he should be stronger than this, and he hates himself for not being, but he doesn’t have the strength to handle it right now.

“You know, it’s tempting to crack a joke about this, but there are so many jokes in the world about lime Jell-O and hospitals, I don’t really think I need to come up with another one,” Kurt says, changing the subject, or starting a new one, or simply talking out his ass just to hear himself talk. He pokes at the cubic offering piled in a small, shit brown bowl on his father’s tray, watching it give a little, then bounce back when he pulls the fork away. 

“Oh, there can never be enough Jell-O jokes, babe,” Sebastian says. He grabs one of the cubes out of the bowl, tosses it in the air, and catches it in his mouth. Kurt smirks. Sebastian’s oral dexterity has always impressed Kurt. Sebastian can catch any number of things with his mouth – popcorn, marshmallows, peanuts. Kurt remembers many nights at Sebastian’s place spent watching movies together or studying, with a bowl of mini pretzels between them on the bed. Kurt would toss him one out of the blue, trying to catch him off guard, but Sebastian would always manage to catch it.

Well, eight times out of ten.

Sebastian could usually catch anything that Kurt threw at him. That’s one of the reasons why they fit together so well.

“Yeah?” Kurt says disbelievingly. He pulls his attention away from the monomorphic structure and glares at Sebastian. “Tell me one.”

Sebastian opens his mouth, quicker than Kurt thought he would, but then the corner of his mouth lifts in an uncomfortable smirk. His eyes dart to the side where Burt has shimmied up in his bed, also waiting to hear the joke.

“Uh…unfortunately the only ones I know are in dirty limerick form,”Sebastian says, winking at Kurt. “I’ll have to tell you later, babe.”

“Hey,” Burt protests. “I wanna hear it.”

“No,” Kurt says, looking horrified. “Please, no.”

“Kurt, you’re such an old fuddy-duddy for such a young guy.” Burt turns his clouded eyes on Sebastian and says, “Come on, Smythe. Out with it.”

“Uh…” Sebastian’s eyes shift from Kurt’s wide, pleading eyes, to his father’s stern but joking expression, “I’m not sure…”

“What?” Burt says, his voice sluggish around that soft “wh” sound. “Do you kids think I don’t know any dirty limericks?”

“Dad” - Kurt is suddenly whiter than the sheets on his father’s bed, begging his father not to dig in to his stash of blue humor.

“No, son,” Burt persists, sitting up straighter even though a mass of IV tubes and cuffs try to weigh him down. “Like…oh, like this one…” Burt clears his throat and Kurt’s mouth drops open, mortified that this is actually happening while right beside him, Sebastian leans forward, head twisting back and forth between watching Burt and watching Kurt, waiting for the show to begin.

“There once was a man Robin Hood…”

“Dad, I’m begging you…” Kurt says.

“Who lived in a Knottingham wood…”

“This is great,” Sebastian giggles. Kurt smacks him again, this time on the thigh. Next time, he’s going to stab him with the fork.

“He learned how to…”

“Burt!” Carole gasps. She walks through the door with her cup of coffee, mouth open in an appalled ‘o’. Apparently, Kurt assumes, she knows this one.

“Oh thank God!” Kurt falls back in a chair and breathes a sigh of relief that fills the entire room.

“Damn!” Sebastian snaps. “So close!”

Burt can hear the two men dissolve into a fit of genuine, unforced laughter. He blinks his eyes, dry from the oxygenated air, and watches them turn toward each other, completely wrapped up in laughing and joking the way they do when they’re together. The world disappears for the moment. They don’t concern themselves with regaining their composure, don’t seem to remember that they shouldn’t be touching - Kurt’s hand latched on to Sebastian’s knee and Sebastian’s face buried in Kurt’s neck.

Kurt had been so happy with Sebastian for so long, and then, Burt doesn’t exactly know what. Kurt made it sound like it somehow went away, which is something Burt doesn’t understand. How could _anyone_ understand it when they behave this way? Burt doesn’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. No one ever knows, but for him, that knowledge is more important than it is for some. Whatever’s going on between them, whatever is taking these two men who are so obviously head over heels for one another and tearing them apart, Burt needs to see if he can fix it.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, not happy about cutting the laughter short. This wing of the hospital rarely sees it. “Dinner kind of sucked ass…”

“Dad!” Kurt cries, turning to Carole for help in this situation. When did his dad turn into such a dirty old man? Kurt can tell by Carole’s nod of understanding that she knows exactly what’s going through Kurt’s mind.

“I wish I could say it was the blood loss to his brain, but he’s becoming progressively more crass as time goes on.” She shrugs, the gesture knocking her purse strap from her shoulder. When she lifts a hand to fix it, Kurt can see it shaking. His smile sinks off his face.

Burt clears his throat. “Why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and get me a sandwich, huh?”

“B-but, we were just down there.” Kurt’s eyes jump to Sebastian, then back to Carole. Kurt doesn’t understand. What’s going on? His father is keeping something from him, and now he’s being sent away. It feels like déjà vu and he hates it. All of a sudden, he’s eight-years-old again. He’s being told to run some stupid errand, and when he comes back, his entire world will have changed. And not for good. Nothing good ever happens when his father sends him out of the room.

“It’s alright, babe,” Sebastian says, trying to stem the terror erupting in Kurt’s eyes. “I’ll go with you. Maybe they’ll have more of that vegetarian jambalaya we hated so much.”

“Actually, Sebastian,” Burt interrupts, “I was hoping you’d stay here. Carole can go with Kurt to the cafeteria.”

Kurt’s brow furrows, deep wrinkles cutting across his forehead. He’ll see them later. He’ll remember this moment, and his heart won’t stop racing. “Why would you…”

“He’s trying to get rid of us, hon,” Carole says, taking his arm and tugging him out of his seat. She doesn’t sound any happier about it than Kurt feels, but she leads him to the door anyway. “Come on. You can tell me about life in the big city.”

“Carole, I Skype you guys almost every day.”

“Well, now you can tell me the stuff you don’t say when your father’s around.”

The door shuts slowly, the click when it does louder than Sebastian expected, but Burt talking in his rough, attenuated voice still manages to drown it out.

“I like you,” he says.

“Thank you,” Sebastian says. “I like you, too.”

“I didn’t always like you.” Burt rushes, either trying to beat Kurt and Carole on their way down to the cafeteria and back, or because he’s running out of breath. “When you first met my son, you were an ass.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says with true regret. “I know.”

“In fact, your family won me over before you did. Your mom and dad especially. They’re good stock, your folks, so I figured that the apple couldn’t fall that far from the tree, even though you seemed dead set on proving us wrong. That’s why I gave you another chance.”

“Well, thank you for that. I really appreciate it.”

“You and Kurt, you’re really good together.” Burt’s mouth pulls into a tight, trembling line. “Or you were.”

Sebastian nods in agreement. He doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not entirely certain where Burt’s going with this. Is he berating Sebastian for screwing up, which everyone knows he did? Is he telling him to have hope? Is he stating facts for no discernible reason other than to state them?

No. He made a point of sending Kurt out of the room. He wouldn’t do that just for the sake of conversation. If what he wanted to say wasn’t important, there would be no reason for Kurt to leave.

Burt and Kurt are the epitome of father and son relationships. Even with the incredible connection that Sebastian can claim he has with his own father, Burt and Kurt are the ideal. Unfortunately, a lot of that has probably been bred from suffering together down long roads of misfortune and pain, but it’s done its part to shape who they are as a duo nonetheless. The rest comes from the heart and soul of the incredible people they are. The idea that Burt wants to tell Sebastian something that he didn’t feel he could say in front of Kurt turns Sebastian’s blood to ice.

“You know, it’s really nice of you to come down and all, for Kurt,” Burt says, fingers fiddling endlessly with the hem of the sheet covering his chest. “The last time I had an attack near this bad, he was in high school. Had all his friends with him, to stand by him, distract him. But they’re off doing their own things so…well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Sebastian says. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with him.”

“I take it you’re still in love with him then.” Burt’s eyes drift toward the only window in the room, the one in the outer facing wall. They can’t see much outside but the dark silhouettes of fir trees, the lights inside the room causing the tinted glass to amplify their reflections. Sebastian thinks that that’s really what Burt’s looking at. His own reflection. The person he is right now, stuck in this hospital bed.

“Yeah, I do,” Sebastian says. “I love him more than anyone. More than I love myself.” It’s so easy to talk to Kurt’s father, even though it probably shouldn’t be. How often do people talk about their love lives with their ex-potential-father-in-law? “I don’t think there will come a day when I won’t be.”

“So why do you kids keep acting like asses?”

Sebastian laughs, as much for how true it is as for how Burt chooses to put it. “To tell you the truth, I have no idea.”

“I don’t know a lot about what’s going on, to be honest,” Burt admits. “I mean, he tells me about school and work, and your guys’ relationship in general. But I do know that he thinks you don’t want him to live with you.”

“Of course I wanted him to move in with me,” Sebastian says, slightly exasperated. “Are you kidding? I mean, for one, _my_ place compared to that dump out in Bushwick? The neighborhood’s safer, the heat actually works when I turn it on, and besides, he practically _lives_ at my place anyway…or, he…he was.”

“So, why didn’t you ask him?” Burt’s fingers fidget with his IV line like he can’t consciously keep them still. Sebastian doesn’t want to stare, but the way Burt tugs at one of them, he’s afraid he’ll accidentally pull it out.

“Because, I wanted him to have the whole New York experience. Strike out on his own. You know how independent he is.”

“Yeah,” Burt says. “I know.”

“Every time he talked about going to New York, it was the same fantasy – a little shoebox apartment, a part time job somewhere artsy, and NYADA. I didn’t want to deny him that.”

“And I appreciate you wanting him to have that.” Burt chews on his lip, looking down at his hands with a thoughtful frown. “You know, I liked Blaine. When Kurt met him at Dalton and they became close, I really liked him. He was a good kid. But after Blaine transferred to McKinley, and he and Kurt became serious, something changed. It seemed like Kurt got overshadowed. Too many of Kurt’s decisions were being made _for_ him instead of _by_ him. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do,” Sebastian says, an echo of conversation scrolling through his mind.

_“Haven’t you ever heard ‘if you love something let it go’?”_

_“Yeah, and whoever said that was an idiot too. If you love something, you hold on to it as tight as you fucking can, and you make damn sure it doesn’t ever want to go.”_

“You were nothing like Blaine,” Burt points out bluntly, and Sebastian accepts it, for the good and the bad. “I wasn’t too sure about you, like I said, for obvious reasons. But once Kurt grew up a little, and you grew up _a lot_ , I’d say you guys pretty much made a near perfect match.”

“I’m glad _you_ think so,” Sebastian says bitterly. “ _He_ doesn’t…not so much.”

“Did you ask him?” Burt asserts. “Did you ask him what he wanted? Or did you just assume?”

“I…” Sebastian’s kneejerk answer is _Yes. Of course I did. Every day._ But after a pause, he has to concede: “I think I did. I’m pretty sure I did…once.”

“A-ha,” Burt says, unconvinced, which is fine because Sebastian isn’t all that convinced either. He picks quickly through their conversations, years and years of talks and arguments, but he can’t remember distinctly saying the exact phrase word for word, _What do you want, Kurt? Do you want to move in with me, or do you like struggling at a sucky, minimum wage job and barely making ends meet? Do you like coming home late, smelling like cheeseburgers, and being exhausted all the time?..._ but in a kinder, non-confrontational way. Or did he just complain about all the time he didn’t get to spend with Kurt and make Kurt feel like it was his fault? _Shit!_ He might have done that a few times. Or more than a few.

“Okay,” Sebastian says, “there’s a chance that I may not have asked him that…exactly.”

“But, if I hear correctly, you kept offering him money.”

Shame floods Sebastian’s face when he puts the two together. He made Kurt feel guilty about not seeing him more often, and then he offered him money to keep living in that rat trap in Brooklyn.

“Yeah,” Sebastian admits. “In retrospect, I guess that wasn’t the smartest idea.”

“Well, son, you can’t solve all your problems by throwing money at them.”

Sebastian smirks sheepishly, so many memories flooding back to prove that statement untrue that he can’t stop himself from saying, “Well…”

Burt stares at Sebastian, his kind, albeit foggy eyes, stern, and Sebastian shrinks. Burt Hummel has always been the only man in Sebastian’s life, aside from Kurt, who could make him shrivel with a single look, which is strange considering how fair-minded, even-tempered, and most of all, _forgiving_ Burt is.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian says, appropriately contrite. “Talking was a mistake. I see that now. And you’re right. I shouldn’t have tried that. I think I knew deep down he wouldn’t accept it, but...”

“But…?”

“I was running out of ideas. We just kept fighting, and I kept losing. And I’m not used to losing. After a while, I didn’t have any arguments left.”

“And let me guess - you guys started nitpicking over stupid little stuff to keep from focusing on the bigger issues, in the hopes that one of you would eventually cave.”

Sebastian starts recalling dozens of lame arguments they had started having over easy-peasy stupid stuff like where they wanted to have dinner, what night club they wanted to party at, whether they should drink red wine or white, even one about whether the price of lychees at Kurt’s favorite bodega in Bushwick was worth making an hour commute from Sebastian’s place.

He can’t remember the last time either one of them _ate_ lychees.

“Yeah. That sounds _exactly_ like what we started doing.”

Burt sighs. “You know, none of this stuff you guys keep fighting about matters. The money doesn’t matter, the apartment doesn’t matter. I told Kurt once that if I had known I would get such little time to spend with his mother, I would have gotten over myself and all those stupid things that I thought were important. Selfishly…” Burt stops, the words getting harder to say. “I don’t have a lot of time left in this world.” He clenches his teeth behind thin lips, his lower lip wobbling. “I love you, kid.”

Sebastian swallows hard. He didn’t expect that. Of all the things that Burt Hummel could have said at that very moment, Sebastian didn’t see him saying _I love you_. And if Sebastian wasn’t as tired as he is, he might be better prepared to hear it. But the second those words hit his ears, he feels himself begin to lose it.

“I…I love you, too,” Sebastian says, his voice straining not to crack. Strong and steadfast. That’s what Kurt needs. That’s why he’s here. He can’t break down, even if Kurt’s not there right this second. Because he’ll be back, and he’ll need Sebastian’s strength again.

“I don’t have the time to love someone else,” Burt says with a wry laugh, “and I wanna see my son happy before I go. Personally, I think you’re the guy who can make that happen. So you need to get your act together, and start doing what you can.”

“I’m trying,” Sebastian says. “I swear I’m trying.”

Burt nods. “You know as well as I do that my son doesn’t need a man to make it in life. He’s going to do great things, with or without you. But he’s much happier with you, and I think you’re happier with him, too.”

“I am,” Sebastian says. “So much happier.”

Burt bites his lips together. “Good,” he says, sniffling. “Then we understand each other.”

“We’re back,” Kurt sings, managing the handle of the door with his elbow and sauntering in with an armful of apples and bananas. He props the door open for Carole, but his gaze is immediately drawn to Sebastian, running the back of his hand underneath his eyes, and then his father, reaching for a tissue from a packet beside his head.

“Okay.” Carole walks through the door, her arms laden with a mashup of offerings that she and Kurt had been able to gather from a cafeteria three minutes shy of closing when they arrived. “We have a turkey sandwich on wheat, no mayo. A vegetarian pita that looks like it’s mostly sprouts, tomato, lettuce, and some kind of pesto dressing…”

Both his father and Sebastian pull the same disgusted face.

“That would be my choice,” Kurt puts in, choosing to continue on as if walking in on his ex and his father near tears doesn’t mean anything, especially since Carole didn’t seem to notice. She was close to crying herself the entire way down to the cafeteria. She put on a brave face, distracting herself by asking him constant questions about New York and NYADA and how Kurt liked working at the Spotlight Diner and did he get to see that Hamilton musical? Was it as good as everyone says? Kurt doesn’t want to upset her more than she already is.

But _why_ is she this upset? He’s going to explode if someone doesn’t tell him something soon.

“We got a tuna fish sandwich on rye,” Carole continues, “also without mayo…”

“What?” Sebastian laughs contemptuously on Burt’s behalf, and on behalf of decent tuna fish sandwiches everywhere. “How the hell? That’s just…they opened the can and threw the tuna on the bread?”

“I think so,” Kurt says, handing the sandwich over.

Sebastian looks at the sandwich through the Saran Wrap, then back at Burt lying in bed.

“I am so sorry, man,” he says. “I’m so…why don’t we just…” He puts the sandwich on the food tray and tucks it behind his mashed potato sculpture to keep it out of sight. “There we go.”

“We also bought broth.”

Kurt snags it from Carole before Sebastian can grab it and hide it like he did the tuna sandwich. Or make a comment about how thin it looks. And it does look thin. Kurt watched the cafeteria lady ladle it from her five gallon cauldron and into their plastic to-go container, the brown liquid looking for all intents and purposes like dirty water. Kurt leaned in to Carole and made the remark, “It’s not just thin, it’s _super_ thin,” which Carole had snickered at…but she didn’t understand the reference.

Thinking about it - how that comment had come out of Kurt’s mouth so easily, how the history of his and Sebastian’s life together seemed so constantly on the forefront of his mind, especially now when he was unintentionally using it for comfort - made his already aching heart hurt.

_“Didn’t we agree to leek soup from here on out because our recent foray into café eating was getting too fattening for you?”_

_“Wait, you were serious about that?”_

_“Yup.”_

_“But…but that sounds so…thin…”_

_“It’s super thin. That’s why you’ve got to put a ton of cream and butter in it to thicken it up.”_

Kurt smiled when he recalled Sebastian pouring an entire carton of cream into what had started out as a simple, healthy, and tragically tasteless meal, transforming it into a culinary masterpiece. The memory was so vivid that his leg throbbed from the phantom pain of the sea nettle stings he had encountered hours before their meal.

The nettles were long gone, but like so many things that had happened during that summer, the scars still remained. But the scars Kurt has from his time with Sebastian are ones that he wears with fondness and pride, so much so that even though he doesn’t foresee getting back together with Sebastian, he hopes those scars never heal.

Carole puts the sandwiches on the table, lining them up beside Kurt’s cup of broth in front of Burt’s eyes. Burt looks at them and sighs. Kurt thinks he’s trying to decide what to start on first, but he says: “I think that maybe you boys should get going.” The remark comes out of nowhere, with all conversation having long gone cold, but considering the state Kurt found them in when he and Carole returned, Kurt’s fully determined to blame Sebastian for it anyway.

“What?” Kurt yelps. “Why?” Kurt stares at Sebastian with a venom Sebastian hasn’t seen too much of recently. He had counted himself lucky that he hadn’t. But now he was back to the beginning, like a sign in a warehouse counting off the number of days since their last accident cycling back to zero.

Whoops.

“What did you do, Sebastian?” Kurt asks, though, inside, he might be a tiny bit relieved. He can’t be here. Not in the I.C.U. He just…can’t. “Now he wants to kick us out!”

“Actually, it’s not Sebastian, Kurt,” Burt says, taking hold of Carole’s hand. Kurt notices when he does, notices that his father didn’t even have to look for Carole’s hand. He put out his hand and hers just happened to be there. He and Sebastian used to be that way. Actually, and this is a heartbreaking actually, they never really stopped. “I think the two of you should go back home and relax. Watch some television, play some video games, do something fun.”

“But, dad…”

“I’m not getting out of here for a while, kiddo. Plus, it’s Christmas. You shouldn’t be spending Christmas in a hospital, Kurt. You should be spending it…with people you care about.”

“But…dad…” Kurt’s second _but dad_ sounds so small and hurt and lost that Sebastian wants to pick Kurt up and cradle him in his arms.

Sebastian thinks back to a time when he did have Kurt cradled in his arms, the two of them talking about his father’s first heart attack.

 _I’m not ready to lose him,_ Kurt had said. _Not yet._

It’s been years since that night at the beach house, but Sebastian can tell that Kurt is no more prepared to lose his father now than he was then.

“Don’t worry about me, Kurt,” his dad says. Sebastian can see the man behind the words trying hard to be strong for his son. “I’ll be fine.”

Sebastian feels the world suddenly drop out from under him. He’s never heard Burt Hummel lie to anyone before. He thinks he just has.

Kurt doesn’t sound any less hurt when he says, “Alright, dad. If you’re sure.” He reaches out and gently takes his father’s hand.

“Yeah.” Burt curls his fingers as best he can around his son’s. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Then he lets go.

Kurt backs away slowly, not looking at Sebastian when he does. Sebastian has known Kurt a long time. He’s seen Kurt’s every expression. Kurt is lousy at hiding his feelings. Every single one of them shows like a bruise on his pale face. But whatever this expression is, Sebastian can’t read it.

“Sebastian.” Burt gestures with an IV tethered hand for the man to come closer. Kurt watches as Sebastian leans in and his father whispers in his ear. He can’t imagine what his dad could be telling him, seeing as they just had a full half hour to talk in private, but he hears Sebastian giggle like a teenager, and he figures it out.

“Are you telling him the end of the…” Kurt watches Sebastian’s face light up in the most ludicrous smile, and he rolls his eyes. “Of course you’re telling him the end of the limerick.”

“Oh my God,” Sebastian groans, with a grin on his face specifically designed to raise Kurt’s vexation levels. “That _is_ nasty!”

“See,” Burt says proudly. “I told you.”

“Can we…can we go now?” Kurt asks, already at the door. “I don’t need you spouting off dirty knock-knock jokes in the car on the ride home.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sebastian says, stopping to give Carole a parting hug good-bye, “I’m comin’. Keep your panties on.”

Sebastian winks at Carole.

Carole giggles like a school girl.

Kurt opens the door and walks out.

“Hey! Hey, Sebastian,” Burt calls in a lowered voice so Kurt doesn’t notice. Sebastian stops in the doorway, but Burt waits so his son can walk down the hall a ways before he says anything. Catching Burt’s vibe, Sebastian keeps one eye on Kurt heading toward the elevator, then nods at the older man when he gets there.

“Yeah?” Sebastian returns in the same lowered voice.

“Take care of our boy, huh?” It’s not a blithe statement. It hangs heavy between them, burdened by many different interpretations. But the one that stands out the clearest is the one Sebastian fears the most – for Kurt as well as himself.

Burt knows something that he’s not telling. A glance in Carole’s eyes, difficult to see because she has started fussing with Burt’s things – rearranging the food on the tray on his table, fluffing up his pillows, checking his IV tubes for kinks – she knows it, too.

But regardless of the fact that whatever this secret is might change everything for all four of them involved, Sebastian can’t help smiling down at his shoes.

Because those few words lets Sebastian know that whatever good thing may happen, things that Sebastian is holding out hope for, Sebastian has Burt’s blessing.

“I will,” he says. He peeks up to see Kurt staring at him in confusion. Sebastian puts up a _one more second_ finger, and Kurt stomps a foot on the floor. Kurt can be so difficult sometimes. So stubborn. So set in his ways, grounded in his own opinion. Those opinions often grate against Sebastian’s own, make him rethink everything because he knows, in the end, he’ll side with Kurt, even if Kurt’s wrong. Kurt’s a lot of work – like a rum chocolate soufflé. But he’s worth it. “I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this got really heavy and ominous, but before anyone wants to lynch me, please remember that one of the very first one-shots I wrote for this verse, "Under the Fireworks", comes after this ficlet, and Burt's in that one, so no, in case you're wondering, Burt's not going to die in this :)


End file.
